


Toque You Long Enough

by thedeadparrot



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dads Falling In Love, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-22 08:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11376780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadparrot/pseuds/thedeadparrot
Summary: Mike and Jeff are single dads whose kids play on the same hockey team. I'm pretty sure you know where this is going from here.





	1. Toque You Long Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Look, the [Dream Daddy](https://twitter.com/dreamdaddygame) game took over Twitter and also my brain. (Dads! Falling love with other dads!) 
> 
> Each chapter is going to be a loosely-connected snippet in this universe that will be posted as I finish them.

Jeff's been dreading this for weeks. A wave of parent-teacher conferences made it difficult to schedule chaperones for the monthly team pizza party, and Jeff somehow ended up being the one parent holding the short straw.

It's not that he hates Mike Richards on principle or anything. It's just that Jeff's only interaction with him is at the Bears' hockey games, where he'll sit in the front row, looming over the players with a dark glower, and pick fights with the refs over bad calls. The calls are bad, but c'mon, it's Squirt hockey, not even worth the time it takes from the game. They've only ever spoken to each other twice, and each time, Jeff got the distinct impression that Mike hated everyone in general and that Jeff was no exception.

The thought of having to spend an entire two hours with the guy, wrangling a team of ten-year-olds inside a Boston Pizza, is enough to give Jeff a pre-emptive headache.

The pizza party always happens after a game. Mike does his usual thing of sitting in the front row, ignoring all the other adults, watching the game with the sort of intensity that only really belongs on serial killers. Jeff hangs a few rows back and cheers every time Caden's on the ice or when anyone else on the Bears does well, like a normal, well-adjusted human being.

The game ends in a tight loss, 3-2, which makes it easier to load up all the kids on the bus. Jeff makes sure to ruffle Caden's hair as they shuffle, single-file inside. He smiles at Jeff, a tiny, half-hearted thing. "Thanks, Dad," he mumbles.

The Bears' coach, a friendly, gap-toothed guy by the name of Dustin Brown, also smiles at Jeff as he climbs on the bus. "We're really glad you could make it. Never hurts to have another adult around."

"Sure," Jeff says. He wasn't going to hang Dustin out to dry, with only Mike Richards around to keep him company.

Mike's already on the bus, counting heads. He ducks to say something to his son, Nate, who nods seriously in return. Even if Jeff hadn't been told they were related, he could look at this pack of kids and know exactly which one of them is Mike's, just from the sour frown on his face. He wears that exact same frown while playing hockey, like no one explained to him that hockey was supposed to be fun.

Jeff settles into his assigned seat at the front of the bus, right next to Dustin's, and the bus driver drives them to the nearest Boston Pizza. 

It's an early dinner, not a whole lot of other patrons at the restaurant, but that doesn't make the kids any easier to handle. The waitress who takes their order looks a little harried by the time she gets to taking Jeff's order. Mike has been trying to get the boys to stop switching seats every ten seconds, though maybe he's given up at this point. Nate is glaring at his teammates with a similar look of disdain. 

Caden pokes at Jeff's shoulder, trying to get his attention. 

"What is it, bud?" Jeff asks, keeping one eye on the others to make sure they're not trying to stab each other with the forks.

Caden folds his arms across his chest. "Kevin's parents bought him a Nintendo Switch for his birthday last week."

Jeff bites his tongue before he mentions that Kevin's parents are also obsessive workaholics who get him expensive things in order to buy his love. "What's wrong with your 3DS?" Jeff asks.

"It doesn't play the new Zelda game." Caden says, an edge of a whine to his voice.

"But it does play the new Pokemon, right?" Jeff says, grasping for the only possible counterargument he can think of.

Caden shrugs, "I guess that's true."

Jeff says, "I gotta go use the restroom, bud," which helpfully ends the conversation before Caden tries to talk circles around him.

On his way back, Jeff notices Dustin's been left alone to wrangle the whole table by himself. Thankfully, he's had plenty of experience with that, and he seems to have everything under control. But that doesn't explain where Mike went. He wasn't in the bathroom, and he doesn't smoke, so he's probably not outside. Jeff does a quick scan of the room, wondering how looking for a missing _chaperone_ has become his life. 

It turns out that Mike's in one of the corner booths, sitting across Jimmy, one of the smaller, faster kids on the team. From the angle that Jeff has, he can see that Jimmy is sniffling a little bit, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. During the game, Jimmy whiffed a shot after a clean pass on an open net that could have tied the game, and it's pretty obvious he's been beating himself up over it.

For a moment, Jeff wonders if he should intervene, make sure Mike isn't being too intense in Jimmy's direction. Mike's a lot to take when you're feeling good about yourself, much less when you're already feeling pretty shitty. But as Jeff inches closer, he can see the expression on Mike's face isn't intense at all. It's something soft, almost gentle.

"There will be other games," Mike says, his voice quiet, barely louder than a mumble. "The guys on the team understand."

Jimmy frowns. "We're not going to make the playoffs at this rate."

"And that's on the whole team, not just on you. So you messed up this game. Maybe next game, it's going to be someone else, and you'll get to support him the way they're going to support you," Mike says. "If anyone gives you a hard time, let me or Coach Dustin know about it, okay?"

"Okay," Jimmy says, nodding. He smiles, a watery, hesitant thing. "Thanks, Mr. Richards."

Later, Jeff pulls Mike aside while the kids are too busy shoving their faces full of pizza to cause much trouble. "Uh" Jeff says. "You did good with Jimmy back there."

Mike blinks at him, startled for a moment, before he licks his lips and nods. "Thanks," he mumbles. He ducks his head, almost shy. The last conversation Jeff had with him, he'd just furrowed his brow like he didn't understand why Jeff was even speaking to him until Jeff gave up and walked away.

Jeff feels a tug, an errant desire to lift Mike's chin. To get a better look at Mike's face. It's been a while since he last felt this, not since his first date with Pete, nearly thirteen years ago now. That spark of interest, of curiosity, a potential for deeper feelings if Jeff lets it turn into that. It feels ridiculous, undignified. Like being a teenager with a first crush all over again instead of a divorced thirty-something with sole-custody of his ten-year-old son.

And jesus, it just had to be Mike Richards of all people, didn't it? Cool-eyed, grim-faced Mike Richards who intimidates most of the other hockey parents just by existing. But also soft-spoken, comforting Mike Richards, who gave a random kid on the team a pep talk just because it looked like he needed a sympathetic ear.

Thankfully, Jeff doesn't have time to dwell on that feeling, because Caden's trying to get his attention again. "Mario Kart," Caden says. "That's why I need a Switch, Dad."

Mike's lips turn up into a sympathetic half-grin, eyebrows raised in amusement. Jeff says. "Uh, weren't you playing Mario Kart last week?"

Caden rolls his eyes. "That's the old version of Mario Kart. The new version of Mario Kart is only on the Switch."

"Right," Jeff says, feeling hopelessly lost. "We can talk about this some more when we get home." He nudges Caden back towards the other boys. Caden takes the hint and wanders off. Adults are boring to him anyway, and he probably needs to go find more reasons why this Mario Kart is better than the other Mario Kart.

"I can see why the team thinks you're a pushover," Mike says to him. He's still smiling. Jeff isn't sure whether or not he's being insulted or not.

"They do?" Jeff asks. This is the first time he's heard of it, probably because the other parents are too nice to say it to his face. Mike apparently has no such compunctions.

"It's cute, watching you try to stop them from walking all over you," Mike continues, and he doesn't even sound sarcastic about it. His smile hasn't edged over into a smirk yet.

"Thanks?" Jeff says, and he tries to ignore the way his stomach does a little backflip, just because Mike described him, even tangentially, as 'cute'.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Caden's a good kid," Mike continues. "You haven't messed him up or anything."

"You too," Jeff says, "with Nate." Since Jeff became a parent, he has lost all ability to tell the difference between small talk and actual flirting. He knows Mike isn't married or living with a partner or anything like that, but he could just be doing that thing where parents only know how to talk about their kids or how to parent other kids. He doesn't even know if Mike is interested in guys. All the more reason to put the brakes on this not-crush -- or whatever it is -- before it gets out of hand.

"Yeah," Mike says. "Thanks." He gets called over to help Dustin escape from the pile of ten-year-olds who all decided they wanted a piggy-back ride at the same time, but before he does, he shoots Jeff a tiny smile over his shoulder.

If Jeff can't take his eyes off of him, it's just because Jeff wants to make sure he doesn't have to step in as well. That's all it is. Really.


	2. There once was a man fired from the orange juice factory. Why? Oh, he couldn’t concentrate!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff gets sick. Mike goes grocery shopping.

Mike's phone rings as he's leaving work. He's already late to pick up Nate from the hockey rink, so he's a little bit testy when he answers.

"Yeah?" he snaps. He yanks open his car door with more force than is strictly needed, but it's been a long day of meetings and emails and trying not to tell people their ideas are stupid to their faces and he's pretty sure this call is going to make it longer.

"Uh, this is Jeff. Jeff Carter?" the voice on the other side of the other side says.

Right. Jeff Carter. Caden's dad. The tall, blond one. The team pushover, who always gives the kids too much candy on Halloween because they beg until he gives in. "Yeah," Mike says, trying to school his voice so that he sounds 'less combative.' "What's up?"

"I was hoping--" Jeff breaks out into a coughing fit. "Came down with something this morning, and I was hoping you could drive Caden home after practice."

"Sure," Mike says. "I can do that." He's already heading towards the rink right now. What's another stop on the way home?

"Thanks, man. I owe you one," Jeff says before letting out another ugly, hacking cough.

When Mike gets to the rink, Nate and Caden are waiting outside, sitting on a short concrete wall, surrounded by their duffle bags and skates and helmets and sticks. They're clearly bored out of their minds, staring into space and kicking their heels against the wall they're sitting on. Dustin's sitting with them, compulsively checking his watch.

Mike parks as quickly as he can, hopping out of his SUV so he can help the kids with their stuff. "Sorry I'm late," he tells Dustin. "Work stuff. And Jeff asked me to pick up Caden as well."

Dustin smiles at him, relieved. "Sure thing. I was wondering where Jeff was. He's usually pretty punctual." The unspoken _You, on the other hand, are not._ comes across loud and clear. "I would love to stay and chat, but I have to get home soon or the Missus is going to have my head."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Mike says. "I've got it from here."

He loads the kids and their stuff into the car, double checks to make sure they're buckled in securely. Nate has gotten it into his head that seat belts are uncool for some reason, never mind Mike's attempts to convince him that head injuries are even less cool.

"Why can't I sit in the front seat?" Nate asks. When it's just the two of them, Mike's happy to let him sit shotgun, but it seems a little rude and a little strange to leave Caden stranded by himself in the backseat.

"That's for groceries," Mike says. It's not the best excuse, but Mike has never been the best bullshitter, and Nate's getting old enough and smart enough to call him out on it.

"Shouldn't we drop Caden off first?" Nate asks. He's leaning as close to Mike's head as he can possibly get while still buckled in, which means he's speaking approximately five times louder than he really needs to.

"I figure we'll give Caden's dad a little more time to rest before we drop him off," Mike says. He glances in the rearview mirror to see if Caden has any objections. Caden just shrugs. He's like his dad in that way. Getting him to say more than three words at a time probably involves a crowbar.

When they get to the grocery store, Mike makes sure to text Jeff to let him know where they are and why they'll be later than expected.

Once they're inside the store, Nate runs off to grab some cereal while Caden sticks to Mike's side. As they pass the prepared food section, Mike wonders if Jeff would like some soup. Mike likes soup when he's sick. He'll call Cabbie up in the middle of the day and beg him to pick up a quart of his favorite soup from the restaurant across town. Cabbie will rag on him the whole time, but he'll always show up on Mike's front door with arms full of food.

Chicken soup is probably a safe enough choice, so Mike ladles up a container-full while Caden stares at the salad bar. Nate returns with five precariously balanced boxes of Raisin Bran, which he dumps into the cart with a practiced ease, and then he gives Mike a thumbs up.

"Looks good," Mike says. He turns to Caden. "Anything else?"

Caden shrugs again. "No," he says.

Mike's phone buzzes with a new text message. It's from Jeff. _orange juice?_ is all it says. Mike rolls his eyes, but the question is obvious enough.

In the juice aisle, though, he's confronted with that eternal question: pulp or no pulp? Mike never cared one way or the other, but he's had roommates who couldn't stand one or the other. Jeff didn't specify, so maybe he doesn't care either. Or maybe he thinks the answer should be as obvious to Mike as it is to him. Instead of getting caught up in indecisiveness, Mike grabs one of each. If Jeff hates one of them, Mike can drink the other.

Getting through the checkout line with one easily bored ten-year-old is usually difficult, but with two, it's actually easier. Nate and Caden somehow end up playing a wordless game that involves poking each other in the face, but they aren't running around, and they aren't knocking anything over, so Mike lets them go at it as he bags their groceries and pays for everything.

Once they're back in the car, Mike somehow manages to get Caden to talk long enough to give him the address for his house, which is only one neighborhood over from Mike and Nate's. Nate and Caden go back to their silent poking game as Mike leaves the parking lot, content to ignore Mike, which suits Mike just fine. Fifteen minutes later, he pulls into the driveway of a modest blue house, and Caden jumps out as soon as Mike puts the car into 'park'.

Mike doesn't bother rushing after him. Caden's home safe and sound. Mike does take a few moments to separate the chicken soup and orange juice from the rest of the groceries. Nate has taken to amusing himself by kicking pebbles across the driveway, so Mike tasks him with carrying the orange juice, one carton in each of his arms. 

Caden has a head start on them, but he's still weighed down by his hockey equipment, making it a lot easier for Mike and Nate to catch to him.

"Need any help with that?" Mike asks as they start to climb the front steps.

Caden fixes him with an inscrutable look before dumping his duffel bag into Mike's free hand. It's heavier than Mike was expecting, and he almost drops it, letting out an undignified grunt before rebalancing himself, careful not to drop or spill the chicken soup.

Caden unlocks the front door with a key he produces from one of his jacket pockets. "Dad?" he shouts when he steps inside.

He's answered by a coughing fit before Jeff appears from somewhere deeper in the house. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are red and half-lidded, and his wide shoulders are buried under a giant hoodie. He looks like he just woke up from a nap. He smiles at the sight of Caden, though. "Hey, bud," he says. "How was practice?"

Caden shrugs. "Good," he says. He disappears up the stairs a second later, presumably to go into his room. Mike drops Caden's duffel bag on the floor. It makes a loud thump.

Jeff's smile dims, ever so slightly. "Sorry about that. He gets like that around new people."

"It's fine," Mike says. "He was perfectly well-behaved." He nudges Nate forward, who presents the two cartons of orange juice to Jeff in the same way he presents the paper mache projects he makes in art class to Mike when he gets home from school. "Uh, I didn't know which kind you wanted."

"Oh, right," Jeff says, his smile brightening again. "Thanks for picking that up for me." He takes both cartons from Nate and tucks them under one of his long arms. He turns his head to the side and coughs into his other elbow.

"And, I, uh, got you some chicken soup as well," Mike says. He holds out the container.

"You really didn't have to," Jeff says, his eyes widening at the sight of it. He takes the container in his free hand.

"I figured you'd want it," Mike says with a half-hearted shrug. "You might need to heat it up again. It probably got cold on the way here."

"Seriously, you're my favorite person in the world right now," Jeff says, and his usual monotone almost contains a trace of emotion as he says it.

Mike feels his face heat, though hopefully any trace of a blush is hidden underneath his beard. He gets the distinct memory of the last time he let Cabbie come to one of the Bears' games with him, and how Cabbie spent the whole time rating the attractiveness of the other parents like that was the real point of watching a Squirt hockey game. Cabbie had dubbed Jeff 'the pretty boy', and despite Mike's best attempts at dodging it, Cabbie had even managed to get him to agree. It's pretty terrible that even while infected with some sort of plague, the nickname still applies. "Anyway," Mike says, "I should get Nate home so that he can do his homework." Nate makes a face at him, but he makes that face every time Mike utters the word 'homework', so Mike is used to it. 

"Right," Jeff says. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he coughs again instead. "Thanks again."

"Sure," Mike says, shuffling backwards towards the door and dragging Nate with him. "Anytime."


	3. "This coffee tastes like dirt." "What do you expect, it was ground this morning."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coffee not-date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be thanking her every time, but Dark_Eyed_Junco has been invaluable at helping me brainstorm for this fic. It would not be here without her.

"So," Jeff says. He's looking at Mike with a closed-off, wary expression.

"So," Mike says back. He tucks his hands around his coffee cup, feels the warmth of it radiate through the paper.

The Starbucks they're sitting in isn't busy, but it's still humming with noise. Some pleasant soft rock is being piped over the speakers. 

Mike clears his throat.

Jeff fiddles with a napkin.

Maybe this wasn't the best suggestion for passing the time while waiting for their kids' bus. The Bears' return home was delayed for an hour due to traffic and a breakdown in the buddy system, just long enough to not want to wait outside and just short enough to not make the drive home and back worth it. The Starbucks is right next to the rink, and the caffeine doesn't hurt.

Mike takes a sip of his coffee. Jeff takes a sip of his coffee. Every time Mike glances up, Jeff turns his head away, like making eye contact with Mike is the worst thing in the world.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Mike grits his teeth and plunges into a real conversation. "Nate mentioned that Caden said that you guys went to the aquarium last weekend," Mike says. With other parents, talking about their kids is always a safe bet.

Jeff hasn't stopped fiddling with his napkin, but his shoulders relax, just the tiniest bit. "Yeah, it was a good time," he says.

"We try to go once every six months. Nate likes the jellyfish the best, I think. I can't ever drag him away from that exhibit." Nate will always run up to the glass, pick out his favorite (different one every time) and watch it float around for minutes on end. One of Mike's favorite pictures is of him doing that, his eyes transfixed, his mouth open, his profile caught in the exhibit's blue glow. Mike even had it printed and framed.

Jeff actually cracks a smile. "Caden's favorite are the sharks. Something about having all those teeth."

Mike asks, "How many times have you had to watch Finding Nemo? Nate loves this one documentary about jellyfish and I think I have all of the voiceover memorized by now." Nate gets to pick what to watch on Friday nights if there isn't a hockey game on. Mike will microwave popcorn and they'll get fake butter all over their hands.

"Caden's actually a bigger fan of Up," Jeff says with a vague gesture of his hands. "He wants a pet ostrich bird thing."

"Not a dog? We've already got Arnold, but Nate wanted another five after seeing that movie." ("But, Dad!" Nate would say, his arms curled around Arnold's neck. "What if Arnie gets lonely at home by himself?")

Jeff laughs. He's stopped fiddling with the napkin, and his face-- it doesn't hide much of what he's feeling. He's broadcasting a comfortable sort of happiness that Mike's never seen on him before. "A little bit. We had a few tiny dogs when he was younger that he never seemed to have much interest in."

"How tiny are we talking here?" Arnold was smaller when Nate was younger, but they've both grown pretty fast.

Jeff holds up his hands, no bigger than his lap. "Pretty tiny. They were-- uh, more of Pete's thing, so he got them in the divorce." His expression shutters, and there's a tense, awkward silence for a moment..

"Uh, sorry," Mike says, because the last thing he wanted to do is make this whole thing weird.

"It's fine," Jeff says, even though it's clearly not fine. "I should-- I should get used to talking about my ex-husband."

"You don't have to," Mike says. He's not really the kind of person who digs for gossip. Dustin had mentioned that Jeff was divorced, but Mike had assumed that there was a pretty blonde ex-wife floating around somewhere. Mike's gaydar has always been for shit.

Jeff shrugs, looks down at his coffee. "I was the one who really wanted to have kids, so that's how I ended up with Caden."

"Yeah," Mike says. He doesn't want Jeff to feel like Mike's making him spill his guts without giving up anything in return, so he adds on, "Nate's mom and I-- it was an accident, and when she finally had him, she realized she didn't want to be a parent." He'd been barely twenty-two at the time. Lydia had been twenty. They thought they'd been careful, but apparently, they hadn't been careful enough. Or maybe it was just luck. As a rule, Mike didn't put a whole lot of stock into luck, but sometimes things just happened.

"So you ended up taking him?" Jeff asks. He seems visibly relieved that the topic has switched away from talking about him.

"I had a lot of time to prepare for it," Mike says with a shrug. "It was tough work, but in the end, I felt ready." It had been a lot of difficult conversations. A lot of effort put into baby-proofing the house with the help of his brothers. He and Lydia-- they knew starting out that they weren't going to be a long-term thing. The pregnancy changed that, a little, but not enough. Not in any way that stuck. 

Jeff grins. "Felt ready, huh?"

"You know how it is," Mike says. "You're never really ready to have a kid."

"Yeah, I do," Jeff says. He takes one long sip of his coffee, his expression turning thoughtful. His voice changes, softening. "But I wouldn't give it up for anything."

"I wouldn't either." Mike still talks to Lydia at times. Gives her updates on how Nate is doing. Sometimes, Mike worries that she'll realize that she got the short end of the stick, only getting to see Nate grow up from far away, but she doesn't seem to have any interest in taking Nate away from Mike. She and her husband are too busy galavanting about Europe, probably. 

The conversation drops there, having exhausted the entirety of Jeff's conversational skills. Mike finishes off his coffee. The silence, this time, is a little more comfortable.

As Mike stands up to throw his cup away, his phone buzzes. It's a text from Dustin letting them know that this bus has pulled off the highway and that they're about ten minutes away from the rink. He sees Jeff standing up as well, pulling on a jacket.

"I almost thought that they'd gotten lost," Jeff says. Shoulder to shoulder with Mike, he almost looms, but in a way that isn't entirely uncomfortable. Mike's never dated anyone more than an inch taller than him before.

"Yeah," Mike says. He holds the door to the Starbucks open for Jeff, because that's only polite. They pause for a moment in the parking lot, and Mike's tongue feels heavy in his mouth, uncertain of what to say next. He finally settles on, "The next time you and Caden go to the aquarium, maybe Nate and I could come along? I think Nate would like that." Nate never turns down an opportunity to see the jellyfish.

Jeff blinks once, before clearing his throat. "Sure," he says, smiling in a way that makes his eyes shine. "I think Caden would like that too."


	4. Why does Superman gets invited to dinners? Because he is a supperhero.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff ends up with babysitting duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Dream Daddy's release date. Why yes, I did read up on optimal strategies for Sorry! on Wikipedia in order to write this. How did you ever guess?

Jeff doesn't burn dinner tonight, which is something short of a miracle. He needs to get the oven fixed, but it's fallen down the list of priorities. He really does need to carve out some time this week to call up the appliance repair store, get them to come out and fix it.

Dinner is nothing fancy, just some baked ziti, but there are limits to how burnt Jeff likes his ziti, and this oven has a 50-50 chance of tipping one way or the other.

The doorbell rings as he's leaving the pan out to cool. The smell of it fills the air, tomatoes and onions and slightly seared basil. Caden's at the kitchen table, working on his math homework, scratching out fractions. Jeff leaves him there as he heads out to the foyer.

"Hey," Jeff says as he answers the front door. "Come on in." Mike's standing on the front step, Nate at his side. Nate is carrying a backpack that is probably a little too big for him, seemingly stuffed full of books. The sight of it is adorable, but it also triggers a panic low in Jeff's belly about future back problems. Mike himself is dressed up nicer than his usual business casual, His shirt is buttoned up all the way to the collar. His slacks have neatly pressed creases. There may even be some product in his hair. Not enough to make it look greasy, but enough that it looks like he actually put some thought into making it presentable.

"Thanks so much for this," Mike says. "I can't believe both our usual babysitters came down with the flu at the same time."

Jeff shrugs. "It's pretty contagious." There was this one month last winter where one floor of his office all came down with it at the same time. Unfortunately, it was the floor that also contained IT. Jeff is pretty sure some of his co-workers resorted to satanic rituals to the dark printer gods in order to get anything done.

Mike turns to Nate. "Now you be good for Mr. Carter," he says, voice softening as he ruffles Nate's dark, messy hair. "And make sure to finish your French vocab sheet before you do anything fun."

Nate rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dad."

"Caden's got some math problems he has to finish, too." Jeff says. "No fun until both of you finish." He gestures towards the kitchen, and Nate waddles in that direction with a very ten-year-old huff.

With the kids out of the way -- hopefully actually doing their homework and not trying sneak into anything they shouldn't be sneaking into -- they can have an adult conversation now. Which is what they are going to do.

"Uh, so," Jeff says. "Where are you going to dinner?" He's not sure what his face is doing right now, because he's awful at feigning disinterest, but Mike seems more intent on staring past Jeff's shoulder than looking at Jeff's face.

Mike shrugs. "There's this new Japanese place downtown. Some of my coworkers went last week and said it was good."

Jeff clears his throat. "Let me know what you think." Not that Jeff's taking anyone on dates anytime soon, but it could be useful to know.

"Sure," Mike says. He checks his phone. He frowns a bit. "I better head out now so that I'm not late. Thanks again for agreeing to watch Nate on such short notice."

"Yeah, of course," Jeff says. "Have fun." He's proud of how he manages to say it without sounding strangled. It's fine. Mike is going on a date. Because Mike is single. And that's what single people do. They go on dates. Unless you're Jeff. But Jeff knows he's an outlier.

Mike smiles. "Thanks," he says, before disappearing out the front door. Jeff closes it behind him and definitely does not listen to the engine starting, to the roll of tires down the driveway.

When he gets back into the kitchen, both Nate and Caden are at least pretending to work on their homework, though they're both eyeing the pan of baked ziti. They're not teenagers yet, but Jeff's pretty sure that Caden is going to somehow eat the whole house down when they get there. His appetite right now is bad enough.

Jeff gives them about half an hour before he tells them to clear and set the table. The two of them scramble to do it, eager to be away from homework and closer to eating dinner.

Over dinner, Caden's a bit chattier than usual, and Nate is quiet, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming rate.

"It's cool that your dad let you come over for dinner," Caden says to him.

Nate shrugs, swallowing down his mouthful of ziti before talking. "He said he's having a dinner with a guy from his gym that I couldn't go to."

"That sucks," Caden says, full of childish sympathy.

"Sushi's gross, but I like teriyaki chicken," Nate says, morose, clearly disappointed that he's been left out.

"Eat some vegetables," Jeff says, because otherwise he'll do something embarrassing, like try to pump Nate for more information about Mike's date. It's none of Jeff's business. Really.

Thankfully, kids have short attention spans. Caden sticks out his tongue and says, "Do I have--"

"Yes," Jeff says. "You, too, Nate."

"Dad always makes me broccoli," Nate says, looking down at the sliced bell peppers and spinach on his plate with an expression of barely concealed distaste that Mike also wears when he's listening to an Obviously Wrong Hockey Opinion. Jeff didn't exactly have enough time to do much more than dump a bunch of vegetables into a bowl and then mix them together. He doesn't need Nate's judgment on top of that.

"The sooner we eat, the sooner we get to play a board game." Jeff points out.

There are grumbles, but the boys eat their vegetables. And they finish off their homework afterwards in record time. Caden is especially excited at the prospect of playing a game with Nate at their table. He's already bored of playing against just Jeff all of the time.

Caden picks _Sorry!_ out of their kid-friendly game collection and explains the rules to Nate while he sets up the board. Nate nods along seriously. 

Jeff starts out the game with every intention of losing, but then the two of them start _ganging up on him_ , pushing his pawns back at every opportunity. It's not Jeff's fault that they don't figure out that going backwards from the start spot makes it easier to get into the home zone. It's not. 

"Stop cheating, Dad!" Caden says, after another one of Jeff's pawns slides into the safety zone.

"I'm not!" Jeff protests. This is all perfectly legal within the rules of the game.

Caden rolls his eyes. Nate frowns at him. The force of their twin glares is so cute, Jeff can't stop himself from laughing, which only annoys them more.

In retribution, Jeff gets tackled to the ground by two ten-year-old hockey players, who stuff the _Sorry!_ cards down his shirt. It's ridiculous, but it's a nice distraction from imagining Mike making out with a buff gym dude in his car while in the parking lot of that nice Japanese restaurant downtown. Not that Jeff isn't buff or anything. He still works out. When he can.

The doorbell rings as Jeff is picking himself up off the floor. His sides still hurt from laughing so hard. "Nate, that's probably your dad. You should pack your stuff," Jeff says through his wheezing breaths.

While Nate's packing, Jeff goes to answer the door. It is Mike, hands in pockets, looking the same as he did earlier that night. Jeff tries not overanalyze Mike's clothes, to compare its state of messiness, or lack thereof, to how it looked earlier. It doesn't look all that different, but maybe Mike just straightened himself out afterwards. "Hey," Jeff says.

Mike squints at him. "I think you have a card stuck in your hair."

"Oh," Jeff says, combing it out. "You know-- they just--"

"Yeah," Mike says, pretending like Jeff had managed to get out a complete sentence. He smiles, making his eyes crinkle. "It looks like you guys had more fun than I did."

"That bad, huh?" Jeff asks.

"Remind me never to date someone who introduces themselves to me by bragging about how much they can deadlift. He tried to get into an argument with me about protein macros," Mike says with a grimace. "I should have just stuck around for dinner at your place."

Jeff does not choke on his own spit. It's just a little hard to say anything for a few moments. "Sure," Jeff says. "We can do that next time."

Nate comes waddling down the front hall into the foyer, his backpack filled once again to the brim.

"Ready to go?" Mike asks him.

Nate nods.

Mike ushers him outside, one hand on his shoulder. "Thanks again," he says to Jeff.

"It was great having him," Jeff says, and it's not even a lie.

He lingers in the doorway more than is strictly necessary. He tells himself that he's just breathing in the brisk autumn air, but he can overhear Mike and Nate talking as they make their way to Mike's car.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Mike asks Nate. He's still using what Jeff thinks of as his "dad voice", the one that's been stripped of all his usual abrasiveness and resentment towards the world.

"Mr. Carter cheats at _Sorry!_ , and he didn't make us any broccoli, but Caden's cool," Nate says. "Can I come over again next week?"

Jeff closes the door, unwilling to be any creepier than he's already being. He needs to get Caden to get ready for bed. 

The smile doesn't leave his face for the rest of the night, though, and the warmth in his chest doesn't fade before he falls asleep.


	5. You shouldn't tell jokes while ice skating, because the ice might crack up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Jeff buy their kids new skates.

They get to the skate store at its busiest time of day. There are parents with their kids and adults in hockey jerseys, tight-lipped employees in polo shirts trying to navigate the disaster of boxes and tissue paper. Some sitting on benches as they try on their new skates. Some perusing the wall full of ice skates. Nate is bouncing with excitement, because his current set of skates has been pinching his toes, and he's been whining about getting new ones for weeks.

Mike spends most of the time sitting to the side as Nate tries on every pair of used skates in the store. There's no point in buying new ones when he's probably just going to outgrow these in a year. Jeff plops down next to them. Caden's already examining the current pair of skates Nate's trying on, and they're talking about something Coach Dustin said in practice this week.

It's been easier, what with the kids being friends and wanting to spend time together. Mike knows, in theory, that two-parent households have it easier, but it's always just been him and Nate with the few exceptions of when his parents are in town to help out. With Jeff around, though, Mike has someone else who gets it, who can trust to pull through when he needs help. (Not that Cabbie is unreliable or anything. It's just that Mike barely trusts Cabbie to tell different types of vegetables apart much less care for a child for more than ten minutes at a time.) The kids have had play dates. The aquarium and movies and the occasional birthday party. Nate seems to enjoy them, but maybe that's just because he can get out of the house, away from just Mike.

"Saturday rush, huh?" Jeff says.

"In February, anyway." Mike says.

"Dad!" Nate says, nudging Mike's side. "I like these ones." He sticks out his feet so that Mike can see them. Black, unsurprisingly. Almost identical to his old ones except for the fact that it's one-and-half sizes bigger.

He hops up off the bench, takes a few shaky steps on the thick rubber mats of the store. If he's wiggling his toes the way he always does with new runners, Mike can't tell.

"Cool," Mike says. "I can buy these now, but we're going to have to wait for Caden to pick his own out before we head to the rink."

Nate's mouth twists in displeasure, but he also nods, sitting back down on the bench with as much huffy gravitas as a ten-year-old can muster.

Jeff nudges Mike in the side and smirks. Mike rolls his eyes at him, because he's definitely seen Caden's charm offensive when it comes to getting new video games, and Jeff's a sucker for it every time. 

Nate, once he's back in his runners, is a lot more eager to help Caden pick out his pair of skates, declaring almost identical pairs 'cool' or 'uncool' while Caden nods along, agreeing with his assessments.

Mike heads over the register, leaving the two of them under Jeff's watchful eye, and pays for Nate's new skates.

When he gets back to Jeff, he finds Nate and Caden discussing the merits of this current pair of used skates.

"They fit better than my old ones," Caden says.

"They have a blue stripe on them," Nate says approvingly, and then he scampers over to Mike to steal the bag and box of ice skates out of Mike's hands. He always gets like this about new things, as if they're going to run away if he can't hold onto them as soon as possible.

Jeff uncrosses his arms. "We good, bud?" he asks Caden.

Caden gives him a thumbs up.

The ice rink during open skate on the weekends is always pretty busy, filled up with kids and adults. Nate and Caden get their new skates with a speed that would probably surprise even Dustin, zooming off into the crowd while Mike and Jeff are still lacing up.

"New skates, huh?" Anze asks. He's a big Slovenian who helps coach the girls' hockey team. His daughters are a few years older and half a foot taller than Nate or Caden. He's pulling a few ice packs out of his bag. Mike wants to ask, but he also doesn't want to ask. 

Jeff laughs. "They get like this every time."

Mike just nods. "Yup."

"Appreciate them at this age. Just wait until they hit their teen years," Anze says with a grin.

"Don't even remind me," Mike says. Mike was a huge shit at that age. He's still amazed his parents never murdered him or his brothers. He hopes and prays that Nate is easier to deal with than he was.

Mike doesn't get to skate as often as he would like to. It's just impossible to carve out time for it between work and Nate's extracurriculars. So when he gets on the ice again, there's a moment of uncertainty, his balance shaky, before his body remembers what to do. He's off then, years of hockey drilled in his muscles. He weaves in between wobbly adults and hesitant kids, picking up speed. As fast as he is, Nate's faster, flying by, his smaller body tucked in order to gain more speed as Caden laughs, only one or two steps behind him. Mike's reminded of a good memory, he and his brothers out on the frozen lake, chasing each other until the sun was low in the sky.

He catches sight of Jeff, making long, smooth strides on the other side of the rink, at least a head taller than anyone else around him. He's so much faster than them, and he makes it look easy, effortless. The smile on his face stretches from ear to ear, like he's remembering something good as well. His own hockey days, maybe.

It seizes Mike, somewhere in his throat, his chest, a burst of intense feeling that he doesn't know what to do with. He's been aware of his attraction to Jeff for months now, because Jeff's hot, and he's funny, and he's always willing to help out with Nate as long as Mike is willing to help out with Caden as well. But attraction, for Mike, doesn't necessarily _mean_ anything. He thinks Nate's pediatrician is hot, too, but it's not like Mike's ever going to make a move on her. He was pretty sure Jeff was in the same category: nice to look at but 100% unavailable. Filed under 'Nate things' that Mike would never want to put into jeopardy over something as unimportant as Mike's desire to get his rocks off. Most of the time, Mike's life as a single dad feels like a house of cards, one wrong move and all of it will come tumbling down. But now Mike's here, thinking about what Jeff would do if Mike had the guts to kiss him. 

Mike decides to focus on Nate instead, where now he's practicing going backwards on his new skates. Mike pulls himself out of traffic, leaning against the boards as he picks his phone out of his pocket and records a few seconds of video. His parents will appreciate it, at least.

Jeff slides up to Mike, nudges Mike's shoulder with his own. He's still grinning. "Hey," he says. "What's up?"

Mike shrugs, because if he says anything, it'll be something stupid. Jeff's so close, though. His eyes are bright when they meet Mike's own, and Mike wonders if it would be so bad to just-- to just try it. He leans just a bit closer, and Jeff tilts his head down, and maybe--

But then there's a shout from the other side of the rink, breaking the moment. Nate caught an edge, it seems, and went tumbling into the boards. Mike rushes over, cutting through some figure skaters practicing spins in the middle of the ice. When he finally reaches Nate, he's pulled himself up to standing again. Caden is hovering nearby, expression wide with concern.

Mike leans over to help Nate brush some of the ice off his hoodie. "Are you okay?" he asks, because he didn't see the fall. His heart is beating too fast, his breath caught in his throat.

"I'm fine, Dad," Nate says with a roll of his eyes, and he looks more annoyed by Mike's attention than in physical pain, which is good. "Stop worrying." Yeah, his teenage years are going to be a problem.

"It's my job to worry," Mike says.

Jeff skates up to them, holding medical supplies. "Anze gave me one of his extra ice packs," he says.

"I'm _fine_ ," Nate repeats, scowling at the extra attention.

"Another half an hour before we head home, okay?" Mike says. "Don't hurt yourself in the meantime."

"Yeah, whatever," Nate says. He takes off, weaving his way in front of a young couple holding hands.

Caden separates himself from the adults to follow him.

"They have no fear," Mike says with a shake of his head. He watches Nate closely as he circles the rink, his confidence not even the slightest bit shaken from his tumble earlier. "Do you even remember what that's like?"

"Yeah," Jeff says, "but then we turn into adults who are afraid of everything."

Mike glances at him, but Jeff's staring at Caden, lost in his own memories. "Yup," Mike says, and then they don't say anything again for a while.


	6. Why didn’t the prawn share his toys? He was a little shellfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team fishing trip.

Willie's the one who organizes the fishing trip, the second week after the ice thaws. He manages to rent a few boats, to the mixed excitement of the team. Jeff himself is ambivalent to the whole thing, but Caden is chomping at the bit, radiating an excitement that Jeff doesn't even see out of him at the prospect of ice cream cake. ("We get to go on a boat! And Mr. Mitchell is going to let us use his lures!")

At least Jeff's got Mike there for company, even though Mike is also unreasonably excited about the prospect of going fishing.

"Grew up right next to Lake of the Woods. It was something we did as a whole family," Mike says as they load up Jeff's SUV. Carpooling is just more convenient. "I've been meaning to take Nate out for a while, give him some of the experiences I had, but things just get busy, you know?"

Jeff also went on family fishing trips on the nearby river growing up, but all he got out of them was boredom and sunburns. It's like Mike grew up on an alternate universe where fishing is actually fun. He just nods, the same way he does when his coworkers start talking about gardening or the latest cool new social networking site.

"Dad, why do we have so much stuff?" Nate whines. He's just pushed his way out of the front door of Mike's house, his arms filled with fishing poles. He wanders up to the car, scowling.

"Because your Uncle Matt keeps giving me his old fishing gear when he wants to buy new ones," Mike says, taking the fishing poles out of Nate's hands.

Nate rolls his eyes. "You tell me to throw out all of my old things that I don't use anymore. Why isn't this the same thing?"

"So that you and your friends have equipment to fish with," Mike says. "Now stop asking questions."

It's a sunny day. The air is brisk, the last lingering remnants of winter, and Jeff pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders. He and Mike are put on the same boat, along with Willie and his son, William Jr. (who refuses to go by 'Willie', much to Willie's chagrin).

On the water, a breeze kicks up, rustling Jeff's hair, nipping at Jeff's ears. Mike and Willie are talking about fishing equipment with an intensity that mostly just leaves Jeff confused, but Caden's hanging onto their every word. And Jeff likes Willie. He's always cheerful and smiling and always cooks the best food whenever there's a potluck. It's not his fault that he's seducing both Jeff's son and Jeff's crush with his fishing knowledge. Except that it totally is, and Jeff hates him for it.

At least William is rolling his eyes at the whole display. Nate has the decency to look bored. Jeff would fistbump them, but he's not sure they would understand why.

Two hours in and Jeff is mostly bored. He's staring at his fishing pole, his float bobbing in the water. There's not even any beer here, which was the only redeeming quality of the last fishing trip he went on. Caden comes to check up on him. "You haven't caught _anything_?" he asks, the judgement clear in his voice. "Mr. Richards caught one, and Mr. Mitchell caught two."

"How about you? Did you catch anything?" Jeff asks.

Caden frowns. It's adorable, and Jeff feels a smile stretch across his face, because it's the simplest, the easiest thing in the world to love him. "Something caught on my line, but then it got away."

"That stinks, bud," Jeff says. He ruffles Caden's hair, but Caden doesn't stop sulking.

Mike wanders over to their corner, and Caden brightens immediately. He's stopped being quite so quiet and shy around Mike for a while now, but this trip is starting to solidify it into full-blown hero worship. "How's it going?" Mike asks.

"Dad's not good at fishing," Caden says, answering for Jeff.

Mike smiles. It makes his eyes crinkle up, shows the tiniest hint of teeth. "Is that so? Maybe he needs someone to help him out."

Caden rolls his eyes. "He needs _a lot_ of help," he says, and then he wanders off to go see how Nate's doing.

Mike chuckles a little. His smile doesn't fade. He nudges Jeff's foot with his own. "I think something's caught your line."

Jeff sighs. He detaches the pole from the side of the boat, feels the tension of the fish fighting him. He fumbles a little while trying to reel it in, out of practice, not that he was ever much good at it in the first place.

"Hey," Mike says, "here." He adjusts Jeff's hands on the pole, keeps his own over Jeff's to make sure his technique is correct. Mike's hands are strong, a bit clammy and cool from the damp breeze, and Jeff feels a buzz underneath his skin everywhere Mike's touching him. Mike leans in, pressing his shoulder against Jeff's arm, and there's another grin on his face that makes Jeff's breath catch in his throat. Jeff knows, from experience, that falling in love is the easy part. It's the staying in love, the making it work, that's difficult. His relationship with Mike is simpler, safer when it's just a friendship with a side of wistful longing.

But the sun is shining clear overhead, and there's the chirping of spring birdsong, and the boat is swaying gently on the calm surface of the lake, and it's the beginning of spring after a long winter. With Mike's help, Jeff somehow manages to reel in a large fish that's as long as the cooler they brought to hold the fish in. "Nice work," Mike says. He pats Jeff on the shoulder, his eyes warm and his smile bright, and Jeff feels-- he's reckless with joy, reckless enough to take a chance.

"Yeah, uh, thanks, bud," Jeff says. He swallows around the lump in his throat. "So, I, uh, know a guy who works for the Maple Leafs. He can get us tickets for the game this Friday night."

Mike's smile gets bigger. "Yeah, that could be fun," he says. "I know Nate's been begging me to go see them live for months."

"Yeah, that could be good, but I was thinking of maybe leaving the kids at home," Jeff's palms are sweaty, his tongue dry. "Like, just the two of us."

Mike blinks, brow furrowing before realization crosses his face. "Oh," he says. He swallows, too, bites at his bottom lip for a moment. "Like a date."

"Yeah." Jeff says. "Like a date." 

Mike takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Okay," he says, and this time, his smile is small thing, almost hidden and private, a thing just for Jeff to see. "Yeah. Let's-- yeah."

"Dad!" Nate yells from the other end of the boat. "Come look at my fish!"

"Be right there," Mike says over his shoulder. He reaches out, squeezes Jeff's arm. It's not skin-on-skin, but it still tingles in the places where Mike touches him. Mike's smile twists at the edges of his mouth, fond in a way Jeff's only seen when he's around Nate, and they're stuck on a stupid boat with too many other people, or Jeff really would kiss him right here and right now.

Mike heads over to see what Nate is up to, and Jeff-- Jeff still has trouble taking his eyes off of him. Nate proudly displays his fish to him. It's not very big at all. It fits easily into Nate's smaller hands. Mike still lights up with the familiar glow of parental pride.

Caden frowns at the two of them. The fish have been refusing to bite for him. "You'll catch one soon, bud," Jeff says, coming up to him and ruffling his hair.

"Hmpf," Caden says, crossing his arms. He leans against Jeff's side and lets Jeff put a hand on his shoulder in a way that he doesn't usually let Jeff do now that he insists he's not a little kid anymore.

"There are other fish in the sea," Jeff says trying to be magnanimous and sympathetic, even though his day is going pretty well. It's easy enough to understand Caden's frustration, but Jeff's feeling far too happy -- a lightness in his chest, a fizz to his thoughts -- to feel any of it himself. The cliche rolls right off his tongue.

"We're on a lake, Dad," Caden says, rolling his eyes.


	7. Why can't Jesus play hockey? He always gets nailed to the boards.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Jeff go on their hockey date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the chapter title. I saw it and couldn't help myself. You can probably blame Dark_Eyed_Junco for enabling me. And yes, I did nudge the rating up a bit.

"But you promised that you'd take me to a Maple Leafs game," Caden says, scowling. "I don't know why I can't go with you."

"Uh, it's an adult thing," Jeff says. He's staring at his hair in the bathroom mirror. Is it too messy? Should he put in gel? Maybe Jeff's being a little bit ridiculous about this, because Mike has seen him get caught in a downpour without an umbrella and covered in marinara sauce after spaghetti night. But this is still a date. Jeff wants to show Mike that he can put in the effort. That's one of the things that he and Pete argued about in the end, whether or not Jeff was putting in the effort.

"I'm not a baby," Caden says, "I know what a date is. Nate and I could still go and ignore your stupid adult things."

"Next time," Jeff promises.

"Uncle Loops says that you're running out of favors," Caden says, still sulking.

Considering the number of times Jeff has prevented Joffrey Lupul from getting arrested for making bad decisions while intoxicated in college, Jeff is pretty sure that he is never going to run out of favors. Not that Jeff made good decisions. It's just that Loops was always on the verge of making worse ones. "Uncle Loops is lying," Jeff says.

Caden huffs out a breath. "Fine," he says. "Next time. And Nate gets to come too. So that I have someone to hang out with when you and Mr. Richards are being weird."

Jeff sputters. "We aren't weird," he says.

"I managed to steal Coach Dustin's shoes because you were too busy staring at each other," Caden says with a roll of his eyes.

"Wait, what?" Jeff says. "When did this happen?"

Caden's eyes go big and round. "Uh, it didn't," Caden says, and then he sprints out of the room.

Jeff's picking Mike up at his house, dropping Caden off there to spend time with Nate and the babysitter. It didn't make sense to take two cars when they live so close together, and maybe Caden will be in less of a mood if he gets to watch cartoons for three hours straight with Nate.

Jeff rings Mike's doorbell while fidgeting with his phone. He has a moment to wonder whether or not he should have called ahead to let Mike know that he was coming, even though they're only five minutes early.

Nate's the one who answers the door, the teenaged babysitter hanging out right behind his shoulder. He doesn't seem pleased to see Jeff standing on his doorstep, but he shares a look and a fistbump with Caden.

"He'll be right down," the babysitter says. "I think he was doing something in the bedroom."

"He has too many shoes," Nate explains to Caden. 

Mike comes down the stairs a few minutes later, as predicted. He dressed up a bit, but not too much, similar but not identical to how he was dressed for the last date Jeff saw him on. He's holding a pair of black nice-but-not-too-nice shoes in one hand. He smiles when he sees Jeff there, a tiny crooked thing. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Jeff says back.

Mike turns to the babysitter. "We'll be back right after the game finishes. There should be enough food in the fridge."

She throws him a thumbs up and a smile full of shining braces.

"Ready to go?" Jeff asks. He wants to hold out a hand or an arm or something, but they've never done it before, and Jeff doesn't know how to be any different than how they've been.

"Uh, yeah," Mike says, and he follows Jeff out the door.

The car ride is quiet, tense in a way that they left behind months ago. Jeff's palms feel sweaty on the steering wheel. He sneaks looks at Mike, though Mike's expression is turned inwards, lost in thought.

Mike says, "This is stupid." 

"It is?" Jeff asks, and he wonders if he should turn around, drive straight back to Mike's place, drop him off and then grab Caden to go to the game with him instead.

"We're friends," Mike says, "and yeah, this is a date, but we're still-- friends."

Jeff breathes out, the tightness in his chest loosening. "Caden made me promise to take him next time, even if we end up being weird," he confesses.

"So certain there's going to be a next time, huh?" Mike says, and out of the corner of Jeff's eyes, he can see Mike smirk.

Jeff snorts. "I don't know. Are you going to turn down free Maple Leafs tickets if this doesn't go well?"

That gets a chuckle out of Mike, the sound of it filling the car, and Jeff still does-- still wants to touch him. "My parents raised me better than to turn down free hockey tickets, it's true," Mike says.

Their seats aren't great -- not nosebleed or anything, but they're not right behind the bench either -- a sea of white and blue spread before them. They both watch the games when they're on TV, keeping up with the season that way, but there's always something different about being in the arena itself, an extra charge of energy. A hum that fills the space, almost deafening.

Tonight, the Leafs are playing the Jets, Mike's hometown team. 

"Loyalties are divided, huh?" Jeff asks him, leaning in close so he doesn't have to shout so loud to be heard.

"Nate's growing up as a Leafs fan," Mike says, nudging Jeff's arm with his elbow. "I don't know where I went wrong."

Jeff laughs. "Caden's being a bad influence," he says as they watch the puck drop. "We shouldn't let them spend time together anymore."

"At least Dustin was a pretty good sport about the shoe-stealing incident," Mike says.

"Wait, how do you know about that?"

Mike shrugs. "You didn't?"

During the second period, there's an offsides called on the Jets that has Mike leaping out of his seat, shouting at the refs, even though it's impossible to hear him from out here. He's also the lone Jets fan in enemy territory, and he stares down every glare that's thrown in his direction with that weird, slightly crazy intensity that used to freak Jeff out. Jeff is aware that he's got it pretty bad, because seeing Mike like this just makes him feel fond instead of embarrassed or annoyed.

By the third period, the teams are tied at an even 3-3, and the crowd is riled up, desperate for a win. A high-sticking by the Jets leads to a power play, and Jeff-- he slides forward in his seat, caught up in the movement of the puck, the rush bodies as they glide over the ice. He's so focused on the game that he almost doesn't notice when Mike curls one hand around his own. Almost.

Jeff turns, tearing his eyes away from the action below. Mike's grinning at him then, not a small, hidden thing, the way Jeff's used to seeing, but something open and honest and bright. Mike squeezes Jeff's hand once. Jeff squeezes back.

Of course that's when the Jets score a shorty, the goal buzzer echoing throughout the arena.

Afterwards, once the game is good and lost by the Leafs, and they're navigating their way through the parking lot, Jeff says, "I still can't believe you're a Jets fan." He has his hands shoved in his pockets against the chilly spring night.

"I don't think you're in any position to judge me, considering you've been rooting for the Leafs your whole life," Mike says.

Jeff sticks his tongue out at him, because it's easy to feel young and stupid again, over something as simple as going on a date with a guy he likes. As if he didn't have an spectacular implosion of a marriage and a ten-year-old son waiting for him to come home. He could be in high school again, making his first tentative steps towards understanding how much he wanted other boys. He could be in college again, that first hesitant flirtation with Pete over their shared comparative literature class. 

But Mike isn't like any of the boys of Jeff's youth. Mike's like him: older, a little worn around the edges, carrying the weight of adulthood with him. Mike laughs, though, head thrown back, and Jeff gets just the tiniest glimpse of the boy he must have been: reckless and wild and free.

Jeff drives them back to Mike's place, back towards their kids, their responsibilities, their lives as parents. He parks in the driveway, shuts down the engine. He glances over at Mike, his profile lit by the orange glow of the street lights. 

"I had a lot of fun tonight," Mike says.

"Yeah," Jeff says. "Me too."

"So I guess I do get to tell Nate that the next time, he gets to come along," Mike continues.

"Yup. Caden's going to be happy about that," Jeff says. He turns away to stare at the blank expanse of Mike's closed garage door. The awkwardness is back with a vengeance, and Jeff isn't sure what to do about it.

There's a pause, a drawn out moment. Mike releases his seatbelt, and Jeff thinks that maybe they'll just leave things here. They'll get out of the car, and he'll walk Mike back to his front door, and he'll pick up Caden -- who is almost definitely crashing from some sort of sugar high at this moment. And that will be that.

"Hey," Mike says.

Jeff looks at him again. One of Mike's hands snakes out, grips the back of Jeff's neck, draws Jeff's mouth to his own. Jeff huffs out a surprised breath against Mike's lips, but he grabs hold of Mike's shirt, pulls him in closer. Mike kisses with the same intensity that he yells at referees, all of his focus on one thing at a time.

Mike's lips tastes like that mint sugar-free gum he likes to chew, and Jeff leans into it, licks into Mike's mouth to chase the taste of artificial sweetener. Jeff twists his body a little to get a better angle. The gear shift presses uncomfortably against Jeff's stomach, but Jeff can't bring himself to care when Mike's teeth are skimming over his jaw, down his neck. Jeff accidentally yanks Mike's shirt out of his pants, and as he readjusts his grip, his hand slides up and under, finding smooth, bare skin. Mike bites down on the hinge of Jeff's jaw, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make Jeff shiver. Jeff leans back to give Mike more room to maneuver, and Mike follows him. 

On the way, Jeff's elbow hits the car horn, though, a loud, angry blare cutting through the otherwise quiet night. Mike pulls away at that, settling once again in the passenger seat. He's breathing hard, his lips swollen and red. Jeff feels the same. Dizzy and turned on.

But that's enough to remind Jeff that they're not teenagers anymore. That Mike needs to go back inside and that Jeff needs to take Caden home and that this will have to wait. But Jeff has been waiting. He can wait a little bit longer.

They get out of the car, try to straighten their clothes enough so that it's not super obvious what they were up to. Mike grins at Jeff just a little bit as he tucks his shirt back in, and Jeff has to clench his hands so that he doesn't do something stupid like pull it back out again.

The babysitter gives them a knowing look, but she heads out quickly so that she can make her own curfew. Caden seems a mix of reluctant and eager to go home. His eyelids are drooping, but he also wants to keep arguing with Nate about Batman.

"Come on, bud," Jeff says, leading him out the door. He smiles one last time at Mike before they leave, and Mike matches him in a way that makes Jeff's stomach feel fluttery.

"Stop smiling like that," Caden says on the drive back home, slumped over in the passenger seat. "It's creepy."

"Nah," Jeff says. He takes a quick peek at himself in the rearview mirror, and his smile is pretty big and pretty broad, a little bit stupid-looking. But Jeff probably couldn't make it go away even if he tried.

"Does this mean that Mr. Richards can be my other dad now?" Caden asks, his voice hazy as he fades. "He's a lot better at fishing than you are."

Jeff coughs, and he's glad that it's night, because he's pretty sure that he's blushing, not that Caden would probably notice. "We'll talk about that later, bud," he says.

By the time they get home, Caden's already asleep.


	8. Why do we put candles on top of a birthday cake? Because it's too hard to put them on the bottom!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike deals with drama at Nate's birthday party.

Nate insists on having his birthday party at the Fun Zone -- a local arcade that was built in the mid 90's and never left it. It's kind of a dump, but it's been around for so long that it's taken on a certain mystique in the neighborhood. Mike's pretty sure that there are soda stains on the walls there that are older than Nate is.

"Does that place even have running water?" Jeff asks when Mike tells him about it. "I thought it only existed so that kids could smoke weed in the loading dock behind it."

"Beats me," Mike says. He leans his head on Jeff's shoulder. Jeff wraps an arm around his back. His palm presses against Mike's ribs, large and steady and warm. "I guess we'll find out once I call them to set this whole thing up."

It takes a little bit of wheedling to get the full story from Nate about _why_ he wants a birthday party at Fun Zone. Apparently, when Jimmy's older brother had a birthday there, he got unlimited tokens to play all of the ancient arcade games, and then blew all of his tickets on a remote controlled helicopter.

"You know," Mike says to Nate, "I could just buy you a remote controlled helicopter, and it'll be cheaper than this party."

Nate just looks at him like he's grown a third head.

Mike sighs and pulls out his phone.

One of the few saving graces of the whole thing is that Jeff is around to help out with party planning. Usually, Mike depends on his parents for that sort of thing, but they can't make it down this year. Mike's somewhat relieved about that. The thing between him and Jeff-- it's still new enough that he's not sure how they would handle it. His parents are still trying to wrap their heads around the bisexuality as a concept, much less one that applies to Mike in any capacity.

Even then, it'll probably go better than Mike meeting Jeff's family. That dinner was pretty awkward. Jeff's parents were very polite but obviously skeptical of him, while his sister gave Mike her best hurt-him-like-his-ex-husband-hurt-him-and-I-will-hunt-you-down-and-kill-you glare. But Jeff had just beamed at Mike the whole time, squeezing Mike's hand on top of the table and talked about Caden's newest obsession with some Youtuber that Mike had never heard of. And when Jeff had mentioned Nate, it was with the same fondness that he talked about Caden. Sometimes, Mike doesn't know what to do with it, all the things Jeff makes him feel, but he's just riding it out for now, trying not to screw up, muddling his way through, same as he did with Nate.

The day of the birthday party, Jeff goes ahead to set everything up while Mike hangs back to wrangle Caden and Nate. Apparently, they aren't talking to each other due to a falling out over what to watch on Netflix, something about going out of turn. Mike is fairly certain that they'll patch things up as soon as they all get to the arcade, but it's already giving him a headache.

"I don't want to be your brother anymore," Nate hisses in the back seat. He folds his arms over his chest and stares out the window.

Caden stares out his own window and doesn't respond.

"Hate to break it to you, bud," Mike says, thinking of the time he refused to speak to Matt for three weeks, "but we don't get to choose who our brothers are."

"This is my birthday party," Nate whines.

"And hey look, we're going to Fun Zone like you asked," Mike says.

Nate sighs and crosses his arms and refuses to look in Caden's direction again

Fun Zone has set aside a corner of the place, with a few tables and some chairs for pizza and soda. Jeff's managed to get all of that taken care of, everything arranged in neat piles that will be destroyed the second any of the kids get their hands on it.

Mike goes to check in with Jeff as Nate hangs out near the front door so that he can greet the rest of his friends as they come in.

"They manage to figure things out?" Jeff asks under his breath.

"Nope," Mike says. It's probably obvious from the fact that Caden's followed him to the table, refusing to say anything to anyone. "Not yet."

Jeff pulls Mike in closer, presses a kiss against Mike's temple. "They will, eventually," Jeff says.

"Maybe they can skeeball it out," Mike says, nodding towards the machines. He wraps his arm around Jeff's waist, sneaks his hand into the back pocket of Jeff's jeans, gives Jeff's ass a tiny squeeze. Across the room, Willie raises his eyebrows at them, like he knows what Mike's up to, but Mike just glares at him until William Jr. grabs his attention and he looks away.

"I guess we should just be grateful that they're too young to start fighting on the ice," Jeff continues. He's watching Caden closely, every bit the concerned parent.

"I dunno," Mike says, "I think I might prefer it over this passive aggressive bullshit. Clear the air and all of that."

Jeff chuckles a little at that. "You would."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mike asks. He glances up at Jeff out of the corner of his eye, but Jeff just grins at him.

"It's just--" Jeff says. "-- just you." He kisses Mike's shoulder this time, his chuckle partially muffled by the fabric of Mike's shirt.

It always throws Mike off-guard when Jeff says things like that, when it's clear that Jeff knows that Mike is a cantankerous bastard and still-- still likes him anyway.

They get through pizza without much incident. The kids chow down on pizza, talking animatedly about all the games they want to play and the prizes they want to win. There isn't even a whole lot of drama around cake and singing happy birthday. Caden joins in with the rest of the kids, and everyone's singing is kind of off-key and half-hearted, so he doesn't stand out.

During presents, there's a tense moment where Nate opens up Jeff and Caden's present for him, but when he unwraps the Batman action figure, he grins brightly, looks over at Caden, and nods. Caden nods back, like they're already learning the art of manly forgiveness.

Nate looks confused that his grandparents sent him socks, and that his mom sent him a t-shirt for a band he doesn't know anything about, but he's delighted to learn that Mike got him a new scooter, even though he's annoyed that Mike won't let him ride it through Fun Zone.

Once the kids are unleashed on the arcade at large, Nate sets up shop in front of the air hockey table, taking on any and all challengers. Caden is still at the table, talking with Jimmy in low voices, though he does wander into the arcade to play the basketball shooting game for a bit.

When there's a break in air hockey (rare enough, because all of the other kids want in on Nate's giant tub of tokens), Mike wanders over to him.

"Think you can take me?" Mike asks.

Nate stares him down and nods. "Of course, Dad," he says.

They play in silence for a bit. When the score is 2-1 (Nate), Mike decides it's a good time to ask. "You wanna tell me what's going on, Nate?"

"Going on with what?" Nate asks, though it's obvious he's playing stupid to try to get out of this conversation.

"You and Caden," Mike says.

Nate shrugs. Mike's next shot goes in.

"Are you really that upset that you couldn't watch The Mighty Ducks for the millionth time?"

Nate frowns. "It's kinda not about that," he says, as if Mike couldn't tell.

"Yeah?" Mike says.

"It's just like, Mr.-- Jeff came in and he said that Caden could pick even though it was my turn, and Caden picked Pokemon even though Voltron is better," Nate says. His mouth is pulled down into a childish grimace.

"Hey," Mike says, putting down the air hockey paddle so that he can walk over to Nate's side and kneel down so that they're face-to-face. "I get that it's weird and difficult to have to deal with new people fitting into our lives like this, and it's weird and difficult for me and Jeff, too. We're going to mess up, you know? But that doesn't mean I don't love you, okay? And I think Jeff's gonna love you, too."

Nate relaxes, ever so slightly. "Why does Caden have to be so stupid? You have cool brothers like Uncle Mark."

Mike snorts. "Uncle Mark has never been cool, and once he tattled on me for sneaking out of the house when I wasn't supposed to."

"Really?" Nate asks, clearly scandalized to learn that one of his heroes had _tattled_ on Mike.

"That's just how it is with family, you know? You can dislike each other and get frustrated at each other and still love each other. And it's true about friendships, too." Mike has contemplated murdering Cabbie more than once for waking him up in the middle of the night for one idiotic reason or another.

"Okay," Nate says. He glances over at Caden, still at the basketball game.

"Just talk to him," Mike says.

Nate nods. He wanders over to Caden and says something, tub of tokens still curled underneath his arm. Then they head over to the old Mortal Kombat machine together.

Jeff comes up to Mike's side. "Glad to see that the pep talk worked," he says, as Caden and Nate pick out their fighters and their digital avatars start wailing on each other. "This is a way more healthy way of dealing with it than hockey fighting."

"Wait," Mike says, frowning, "isn't this the game where you rip out someone's spine?"

Jeff squints. "Maybe?"

Nate wins the match, which thankfully, does not end with anyone's spine getting ripped out. Caden shakes his hand, being a gracious loser, and then they're chatting like they hadn't fought at all. Mike breathes out a sigh of relief. 

"I know it's been tough on Caden," Jeff says, "not feeling like he has the entirety of my attention anymore. I'm sure it's the same for Nate."

"We'll figure it out," Mike says. "We've gotten them this far, haven't we?" He sees Nate smiling and laughing, his whole face lit up with pure delight, and it's proof that it's worth it. The long nights, the gross bodily fluids, the challenging questions, and the constant fear that he's on the verge of screwing everything up. And Jeff understands that, because he went through it with Caden, too. And now they're in it together, for better or for worse. Mike hasn't said anything, and Jeff hasn't said anything, but it's understood that they're both in this for the long haul. That maybe there's going to be a wedding in their future, if only for the convenience of legal guardian status.

"Look at it this way: even if we don't, it'll be great fodder for their therapists in twenty years." Jeff raises an eyebrow in Mike's direction, leans over to kiss Mike's cheek, and then goes to make sure that the pizza boxes are properly thrown away. Mike squeezes his arm before he goes, and Jeff smiles at him, and it's-- it's good. It's really good.

Nate does end out the day with enough tickets to buy a remote controller helicopter. On the ride home, he promises to let Caden borrow it.

 

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry to say that this is the end! I'm not going to say that I'm never going to revisit this 'verse, but this is it for now. Thanks for sticking with me through it. 
> 
> And also thanks once again to Dark_Eyed_Junco for brainstorming and cheerleading this. Seriously, you can thank her for enabling pretty much the entirety of this.


End file.
